


Eight Years and Counting

by hhhhhhhappycow



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Inarizaki, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Some manga spoilers, eventual reciprocation, some light pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:28:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24237280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hhhhhhhappycow/pseuds/hhhhhhhappycow
Summary: “If you still think you’re in love with me in ten years, maybe I’ll consider it", Kita had said.Unfortunately, Atsumu seems to have taken that as a challenge.
Relationships: Kita Shinsuke/Miya Atsumu
Comments: 13
Kudos: 304





	Eight Years and Counting

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't even ship this, but this thought popped into my head and now, apparently, I do

“Kita, I’m in love with you.”

“Dude, what are you doing?”

“Shut up, idiot. Kita?”

Kita turns around to the sound of his name.

“Sorry, were you saying something? I didn't hear.”

Standing on the other side of the locker room, Osamu laughs behind his hand. Atsumu elbows him and shuffles uncomfortably, his face twisted in an expression that makes Kita feel sorry for him.

Or, at least, he does feel sorry for the first year, until he takes a bold step forward and opens his mouth.

“Kita. I’m in love with you.”

Ah. Kita has been hoping that this wouldn’t happen. It is not quite a secret that the new freshman has a crush on him.

Pulling his jacket on over his shoulders and drawing himself to his full height, Kita crosses his arms across his chest and looks at Atsumu’s round face, his hopeful gaze. Osamu’s face, so like Atsumu’s and yet so different, is half-hidden behind his hand. Aran and Ren found it weird that Kita could tell them apart so easily, had teased him on numerous occasions about it, yet Kita cannot understand what is so difficult.

The two of them are not alike at all. Not really. Osamu slouches slightly when he walks whereas Atsumu stands tall. Atsumu’s smile crooks up just a centimeter more than Osamu’s. Their eyes, too; Atsumu’s flash with a mischievous glint whereas Osamu’s are sharper, watchful.

He takes in Atsumu’s eyes now, trained on him. Still waiting.

It's not like the thought isn't there, hasn't been there: Atsumu is attractive, and a good player. He is fun to be around. But he's also young and immature and, asides from volleyball, his interests never seem to stick for too long.

Kita takes a deep breath and steels himself for what is about to come.

“No, you’re not.”

“What?” Atsumu squawks. It is a little endearing, his shocked expression. “Yes I am.”

Kita shakes his head. “No, you’re not. You think you are. But it’s just a crush.” He puts a hand on Atsumu’s shoulder and speaks as softly as he can manage. “You’ll get over it.”

“But- but what if I don’t?”, Atsumu all but wails. Osamu is in hysterics by that point, and Kita makes a subconscious note to try and encourage the two of them to work better as a team.

“You will.” Kita contemplates. “If you still think you’re in love with me in ten years, maybe I’ll consider it.”

“Ten years?!”, Atsumu yelps, at the same time as Osamu groans; “Don’t tell him that, he’ll take it as a challenge!”

Kita shakes his head as the twins skitter off, still bickering. Fox cubs indeed.

*

Unfortunately, over the next two years, Atsumu does not forget Kita’s words.

“Just ten years to go!”, becomes a frequent utterance during practice, often accompanied by Osamu and Suna’s protests, and all too quickly it becomes; “Nine more years!”

Kita shakes his head each time. Atsumu’s former heartbreak has now thankfully become something funny to them, he thinks, which is why the boy is carrying on with it. He would forget what Kita had said, though, in due time.

*

Kita wipes his brow and looks up at the sun overhead. He should head back to the house for a drink, preferably soon. The work of the morning had drawn beads of sweat to the surface of his skin, and he is only just becoming aware of how dry his throat was.

As he meanders among the fields, back towards the house, he idly wonders when Atsumu will arrive: It was the new Inarizaki captain who had called asking if Kita could help him practice before nationals. Kita had agreed and offered to extend the invitation to Osamu, which Atsumu had rejected, saying he also wanted to talk 'captain stuff' with Kita, too. Kita is not quite sure what he had meant by, however he had relented without further questions and said he would look forward to Atsumu’s visit.

He feels a little bad: It was likely he was now going to be too tired to even help Atsumu. Taking care of his grandmother’s land is hard work. He sometimes wonders what life might have been like had he gone to college instead, but they are never serious thoughts. In truth, this is the life for him. He enjoys being out here in nature, watching the fields roll away in all directions and the way the sky changes throughout the day.

When he makes his way back to the house, he is just in time to catch Atsumu walking down the long driveway, and he raises one arm in greeting. Atsumu waves back enthusiastically and begins to jog the rest of the way. He seems somewhat overdressed in long pants and a jacket, but he pulls the jacket off as he gets closer. The dry dust from the gravel is kicked up in a cloud around him and clings to his shoes.

“Hey.”

“Hello, Atsumu”, Kita greets his old friend amicably. “How have you been?”

“I’m better, now I’m finally here.” Atsumu runs a hand through his hair, which is sticking up in all directions. Kita supposes that if there was someone else around he would probably be trying to fix it, but he doesn’t seem to mind much when it’s just the two of them walking together. “What about you? Have you been watching our games?”

“I have. You’re doing a good job as captain.”

That was true: Despite the still mischievous glint in his eyes and his sometimes-questionable personality, Atsumu has taken on a lot of responsibility. Although the others had voiced their doubts when he had voiced his opinion that Atsumu should fill the void he was leaving, Kita had always been certain of his choice, and he is truly glad that Atsumu is living up to his expectations.

“It’s tough, keeping some of those guys in line.” Kita glances at Atsumu from the corner of his eye. He’s speaking almost ironically, as if he knows that everybody thinks he’s the one who really needs to be kept in line. The slightly bitter smile lifts to a real one as he asks; “Are you ready for some spiking practice?”

Kita flushes somewhat guiltily and speaks slowly as he answers; “I was just coming in from the fields. I will have a drink and then we can practice.”

“Sure. We can just hang out for a while, too, if you’re tired.”

Kita _is_ tired so, even though he is surprised that Atsumu is not upset at the possibility of not getting the chance to play and feeling guilty at having denied him that opportunity, he simply nods and opens the front door. Atsumu immediately throws himself down on the couch, as if this is his own home, while Kita takes a seat on the chair beside it. He is polite to Kita’s grandmother at least, thanking her even as he shoves cookies down his throat.

In the end, the practice Atsumu had requested does not go ahead. They sit in the cool interior as Atsumu gives Kita a detailed rundown of all the antics that have been going on since he graduated. Kita listens politely, occasionally fetching drinks for the two of them.

Eventually, when the temperature outside begins to drop and the air turns golden with the vanishing rays of the sun, they migrate back outdoors, taking their drinks with them as they stand and look across the fields. The crops ripple in the wind, patches of shadow and light alternately running cross them. Kita closes his eyes, listening to Atsumu talk until he too falls silent, and feels content. Yes, there is nowhere else he would rather be in the world.

“Hey”, Atsumu says out of nowhere as he finishes his glass of lemonade and nudges Kita’s side with his elbow. “Three years down.”

Kita sighs and opens his eyes. He normally wouldn’t say this, but he’s tired. “Atsumu. You still haven’t forgotten that?”

“Of course not.” Atsumu laughs. His eyes are bright. “You said ten years and I’m gonna hold you to that.”

“Atsumu…” Kita repeats. “You should probably stop with that, now.”

It is not something that he really wants to say. Or, rather, it is something that he did not want to _have to_ say. The refrain of ten years always alleviated the mood with the rest of the team, and he is sure that by now Atsumu is really just joking, yet he feels the pressing need to clear the air in case Atsumu was still holding on to some kind of hope over his childish crush.

“Ah.” Atsumu puts his hands on his hips, leans back, and laughs. When he looks back down, he said; “Come on, Kita, I was just kidding.”

Kita feels heat rise in his cheeks, hopes that the golden light basking on his face will mask any color in it.

“Ah. Of course. I was just making sure. Sometimes it can be hard to tell when you’re joking.”

“What are you talking about? I have the best jokes.”

Atsumu makes his way back into the house, muttering something about needing a drink. Even though it is not as hot as before, it is still incredibly warm, and it occurs to Kita that getting back out of the direct sunshine is a good idea.

A small sigh of relief escapes him as he follows Atsumu back inside, moving slowly as he turns various thoughts over in his head.

Of course, Atsumu is over it. It had just been a dumb crush like he had thought. That was good. Atsumu is a valued friend and Kita is glad he had handled that situation so well. Still, something is troubling him. He did not want to have made things awkward between the two of them by making the wrong assumption.

“Oi, Kita, where do you keep your alcohol?”

Kita’s footsteps speed up slightly as he heads in the direction of the voice calling from the kitchen.

*

The bag of rice is heavy on Kita’s back as he steps out of the elevator and up to the door to Atsumu’s apartment. He feels ridiculously underdressed, in a t-shirt and long pants, and is relieved to see Atsumu wearing plain workout gear when he opens the door and enthusiastically greets Kita.

“Have you heard from Aran?”, he asks as he leads Kita inside.

Kita has never been here before, and he pauses for a moment to take it in. The apartment is neater than he had expected. Or, he should say, cleaner: The surfaces are covered in various magazines and tubs of food, but the ones that aren't gleam. He feels bad even setting his rice down on the floor. His old kouhai is doing well for himself, even if he is still new to the V1 league.

Realizing that Atsumu is still awaiting an answer, he says; “He messaged me before he got on the bus. He said he was looking forward to seeing all of us tonight.”

“Hm.” Atsumu takes a seat on the couch and motions for Kita to join him. “He’s probably still on the bus, it’s a long trip. Shame Gin couldn’t make it.”

“Yes. And Suna.” Their other friend had called Kita the previous day to apologize and explain their coach was working them hard, so he would be unable to leave practice early and make the journey. “Where is Osamu?”

“He went already. You could have passed him on his way out, actually, you just missed him. He’s gone early to set up the stall. Is that rice for him?”

“Yes.” Kita nods. “I don’t normally bring it to him directly, but I thought that since I was coming to visit, I would bring an extra bag for him.”

Atsumu springs to his feet and brushes past Kita. “Here, let me take it. He can pick it up from here whenever.” He dumps the bag on the open kitchen counter and then turns back to the living area. “I might even have some myself if he doesn’t get it soon. Your rice is the best.”

“I appreciate the compliment, but it is for Osamu.”

Atsumu pouts and slouches, looking momentarily like his aforementioned brother, then straightens up and leans back against the counter, tucking his hands into his pockets. Kita has to twist uncomfortably to see him.

“So, who are you going to cheer for tonight?”

“I will cheer for both you and Aran.”

“Nah, come on, Kita.” Atsumu’s back squirms against the wall as he appears to fight the urge to slouch. “You’re meant to say you’ll cheer for me. Osamu said he will cheer for Aran, so it’s only fair.”

Kita fights the urge to smile. “I’ll think about it.”

Atsumu disappears off for a moment, and Kita can hear him rummaging around. His old friend has grown up a lot, with the fancy apartment and mature features, but in many ways, Kita thinks, he is still as childish as ever.

Atsumu reappears, now with a jacket over his shoulders and a sports bag.

“I need to get down to the stadium. Come on, I’ll give you a ride. You’ll be there early, but you can go see Osamu or something.” He makes a slight face at that.

During the drive, Atsumu tells him about the team, and Kita is somewhat grateful. He isn’t too familiar with the Black Jackals, to tell the truth, despite watching a few of their games when he first found out Atsumu was signing with them. He hasn’t had the time to catch up on their more recent matches. And, even if Atsumu’s summaries are a little too detailed- Kita really doesn’t need to know what kind of aftershave Meian wears- he thinks that from them he’ll be able to pick out the key players in the game. Some of them Kita is sure he will be able to identify on sight: Bokuto, for instance, who has also just signed, and who Atsumu alternately enthuses and complains about. Kita can vaguely remember playing against him in high school when they were both first years, and he knows that he and Atsumu could make for a formidable duo. He shudders slightly on behalf of their opponents, and Atsumu cackles as if he knows that Kita is imagining going up against them.

The court isn’t very far. Atsumu pulls up in a bay around the side, but when he turns the engine off, he doesn’t move to get out of the car. Kita watches him curiously.

“Hey”, Atsumu says slowly, “I actually got you something.”

He seems embarrassed, nervous, and Kita thinks Atsumu hasn’t acted like this around him since he was about sixteen. Whenever they’ve met up in the last few years they’ve acted normally, Atsumu always joking around and Kita quietly enjoying spending time with his friend.

“What is it?”

Atsumu reaches into the back seat and reappears with a box, which he thrusts in Kita’s direction. “Here. Don’t- it’s not a big deal of anything, I just thought.”

Kita opens up the small package. There’s dark fabric inside, and it brushes softly over his knuckles as he lifts it out and unfolds it.

It’s a Black Jackals shirt. He turns it around and sees 'Miya' on the back.

Atsumu is watching with a slightly red face.

Kita laughs, unexpectedly and unrestrained. “Thank you. It’s a nice gift.”

“I just thought you could support the team, and me, too. It’d mean a lot.”

“Is this because you were scared I’d join Osamu in supporting Aran?”, Kita teases lightly as he folds the shirt back into the box.

“Huh? No!” Atsumu’s face scrunches up when he protests, and Kita has to fight to keep a smile off of his own face. This is the Atsumu he knows. “You don’t have to wear it now! It’s just a general gift! Wear it…” His face scrunches up even further. “While you’re weeding or planting corn or whatever.”

“I don’t grow corn.”

Atsumu waves one hand. “Rice, then.”

Kita feels a warmth rising in his chest; pride for his former kouhai and sentiment for the gift. “I will be sure to. Thank you, Atsumu.”

They get out the car and Kita follows Atsumu in a side door, past a couple of security guards smoking cigarettes and down a narrow hallway.

“Follow the hall straight along and you’ll come to the stands on the left”, Atsumu instructs when they come to an intersection in the corridor. “I’ll see you once I’ve won this.”

Kita nods up at him without speaking and watches as Atsumu once again shoulders his bag and walks away. Out of nowhere, he finds himself thinking, we’re halfway through. Five years down. Five to go.

Shaking himself, he heads down to the stands, hoping to spot Osamu.

He doesn’t wear the shirt during the match, but it makes an appearance whenever he watches Atsumu’s games at home afterward.

*

He doesn’t bring rice, the next time they saw each other, almost a full year after.

This time it is Osamu’s apartment he enters, far closer to home. He has been there before; even has a spare key, which Osamu has loaned to him recently. On his last few visits, since he made the trip to Osaka, he has been surprised by the similarities with Atsumu’s apartment, although he would spare them both of that thought.

He is less tired than he thought he would be, following the day’s work, and he bounds up the stairs swiftly and turns the key in the door. Osamu had asked if he could perhaps come a little earlier, but there was no helping that now. The man himself was busy with his own work; it was Atsumu that Kita had come to see, at Osamu’s request.

Atsumu has apparently been keeping himself busy during his four-week break from playing, caused by an arm injury. It is nothing major, he had assured Kita over the phone. It would heal. But, in Osamu’s words, he was being shitty about not being able to play for a month straight. Gentle exercises only. Osamu had been staying at home with his brother the past few days, yet he could not avoid returning to work forever, and so Kita had made the journey over to see if there was anything he could do to take Atsumu’s mind off of his boredom.

“You’re here so late”, Atsumu whines when Kita steps inside. He is standing in the kitchen nonchalantly, one arm resting on the open fridge door as he peers at the interior.

“I have my own work to do”, Kita reminds him gently.

Atsumu sighs, shuts the fridge door without taking anything out and turns to Kita. His left arm is resting in a sling. Kita makes his way over to give it a cursory glance. No obvious lumps or bruises.

A little too roughly for someone with an injury, Atsumu throws himself onto the couch and turns the TV on, and Kita joins him wordlessly, already sensing that his friend is in an awful mood. He tries to pay attention to the TV instead. Kita does not really watch TV at home so it is an experience for him, taking in the trashy shows that Atsumu enjoys.

“Help yourself”, Atsumu grunts at him after the first episode finishes, indicating a whole table full of snacks that probably belong to Osamu. Kita declines.

On the screen, two women begin to fight for reasons that Kita doesn’t completely comprehend. The way the two of them insult each other and pull each other’s hair is eerily familiar, though. Once more, he decides against bringing that up.

“You haven’t been to visit for a while”, Atsumu says, out of nowhere. When Kita looks at him he’s reclining back on the couch, peering up with his eyebrows raised. “In Osaka.”

“I’ve been doing more at home, around the farm. It’s an everyday job. No holidays.”

Atsumu goes humph.

“Well, do you watch my games, at least?”

“I do. Suna’s and Aran’s, too, and Riseki’s now.” Atsumu makes a face at that. “I’m proud of all of you. Osamu and the others who didn’t go pro, also.”

  
“Ahh, don’t bring him up right now”, Atsumu whines, as if they aren’t currently sitting in Osamu’s apartment.

He falls silent, and Kita again tries to pay attention to what is happening on the screen.

“Kita-san…”, Atsumu continues after a moment, “did you watch the one where I got injured?”

Without looking away from the TV, Kita admits; “I did. It was not pleasant, but I knew you would be alright. It was just your arm.”

“Just my arm? It could’ve been the end of my playing career!”

“Hmm.” Kita tips his head to one side. “But better than a nasty collision or a head injury.”

“I guess. I just… I hate not being able to play, you know?”

Kita knows. He always hated it. Kita hates it, too.

He looks at Atsumu and finds him looking down at his arm, prodding it with the index finger on his other hand.

“I feel so… Restless, and helpless. I want to be better already.”

“Atsumu. These things take time. You’ll get there, I promise.”

They go quiet for a moment. The TV has quietened now, as well, and Kita realizes that advertisements are playing. He shuffles back against the couch, relaxing slightly, and turns to find Atsumu already watching him from where he is reclining, half-lying across the couch, his knee a few inches from Kita’s own.

Atsumu’s brows knit together as he meets Kita's gaze. “Hey, is it three years left to go, or four? I’ve forgotten.”

Kita does not quite understand what he is asking. “Hm?”

“You said I had to love you for ten years before I had a chance.” Kita sees his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. “How long do I have left to go?”

“Oh.” Kita thinks. Swallows. “It’s four.”

“Ah.” Atsumu leans back and throws his good arm over his face so that only half his features are visible.

Kita is waiting for him to make another joke, but none comes. He holds his glass in both hands and neither of them says anything else until Osamu comes home ten minutes later.

*

The sun is low and sheds light on the dust that clings to the corners of the shrine, and Kita has never felt more lonely.

Voices outside betray the fact that, in actuality, he is not alone here. His friends had arrived for his grandmother’s funeral, and he is grateful for their continued support. He had requested, however, that they give him some time by himself to say goodbye once the formal ceremony was over.

Before, Kita had always been sure of those who watched over him.

But now he only feels the empty space beside him, the cold reach of the shadows.

He is not sure how long he sits there before the voices begin to rise in volume.

“We can’t leave him in there all night!”

“For fuck’s sake, give him time to grieve!”

“I’m not saying we should drag him away, just that he shouldn’t be alone for too long!”

“Guys!”

The voices drop back to murmurs.

A minute later, the door opens and there are footsteps, and then someone sits down beside him.

“Kita”, Atsumu says. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He draws a shuddering breath. “She’s watching over me, now.” He just wishes he could have some sign of her presence.

“Hey.” Atsumu reaches out, as if to touch Kita’s cheek, perhaps brush his tears away, Kita thinks, and then pauses and leans back, nose wrinkling. “I don’t believe this. You’re not even an ugly crier.”

Kita blinks at him. “What?” He feels anger flare in his stomach, that Atsumu would be talking like this, _flirting_ like this when his grandmother has just died.

“Apparently you do only have one weakness.” He shakes his head, and Kita understands that this is Atsumu’s lame attempt at a joke, to try and cheer him up.

“Atsumu”, he chokes it as a warning, but it comes out fondly.

“Aran would have laughed.”

Kita sighs, but he does feel a little better, having Atsumu there, being his old somewhat insensitive self.

“Sorry.” And, to his credit, Atsumu looks sorry. He reaches over and hugs Kita. “I’m really sorry, Kita.”

Kita doesn’t reply, just closes his eyes and leans into the hug. He focuses on the warm arms closed around him and finds himself thinking, just under three years. Two and a half, if he really thinks about it.

*

Kita enjoys his quiet existence. He knows he could never live happily the way Aran or Atsumu live. Yet, he thinks, as he takes a sip of his drink, that it is good to sometimes see and be with the people he cares about.

The wedding had been beautiful. Aran and his bride had smiled and blushed their way through the preparations and the ceremony, and then the reception, now dwindling down following the departure of the bride and groom.

It was entirely possible that it was the drink that was making Kita feel so emotional. He was not exactly drunk- he had had one drink only, allowing himself a rare night off with the excuse of it being his best friend’s wedding- but he certainly felt drunk, light-headed with the whirling happiness that surrounded him.

He had hugged and danced with Aran and his new wife, at their request; let Osamu and then Suna spin him around when he accidentally walked into the middle of their dancing; caught up with Ren at the bar; allowed Akagi to pay for his drink when he came to whisk Ren away, yelling something about needing Ren to see what Ginjima was up to; sat with Riseki to discuss career choices; and, of course, joined Atsumu in toasting to the happy couple just before they left.

It may have been a little more awkward, he supposed, if he had not been making more of an effort to stay in contact over the past year. He often calls Atsumu, Suna, Osamu, and Riseki to check up on them after games, to let them know he was watching, or to find out the score. Atsumu, especially, always seems to be awaiting his call and frequently returns them. Sometimes Atsumu calls him in the morning, when he wakes up early, although Kita is normally already halfway through his day by then. Sometimes Kita calls Atsumu at night- probably late evening for Atsumu- and talks to him before he goes to sleep. He shouldn’t keep encouraging whatever this is; he would have tried harder to cut Atsumu off years before if he had known that he would still keep hanging on…

Except, he finds that he enjoys talking to Atsumu. Especially over the past couple of years, Atsumu has matured a lot. He thinks it probably has something to do with his teammates: Adding Sakusa and Hinata to Bokuto… Well, Atsumu has told him about their antics.

He catches Atsumu’s eyes where he stands on the dancefloor. His face is shining under the lights. They ripple over his jawline and down the neck of his shirt, collar now unbuttoned and open. He’s been dancing for a while, hence the sweat. He must be tired, too: He is simply swaying from side to side, staring back at where Kita sat, none of his erratic dance moves from earlier. As Kita watches Atsumu tips his head back and closes his eyes, getting back in time with the music.

Kita looks around for any of their other friends. He spots Ginjima talking with a woman he doesn’t recognize. Just several feet behind him, watching, are Osamu and Suna, speaking in whispers. Suna catches Kita’s eyes and smirks, and he gets the feeling he doesn’t want to know what they’re discussing.

Kita’s gaze is broken with the arrival of Atsumu, slinging an arm over the back of his chair as he sits beside him.

Once he is seated, he casts a wide-eyed, crooked smile in Kita’s direction. “Hey.”

“Hello.” Kita shuffles over slightly and moves his drink out of the way so Atsumu has room to rest his arms on the table. “Are you tired of dancing?”

“A little. I just thought that I haven’t had the chance to talk to you all evening.” His voice is low, and his eyes are intense, and Kita feels his heart rate pick up slightly. This feels like flirtation. “I liked your speech.”

“It wasn’t as funny as Aran deserved, but I worked hard on it. Thank you.”

Although Kita had carefully kept his tone neutral, Atsumu laughs and leans in slightly.

“Did you see Gin?”, he whispers.

“Yes. He was speaking with a girl.” Kita eyes Atsumu warily.

“He’s trying his luck. I think she’s like an old family friend of Aran’s mom or something. The thing is, she only speaks English, so Gin is… Well, he’s doing his best.” Atsumu snickers a little and rests his chin in his hand, leaning forward on the table, further into Kita’s space.

Kita puts both hands around his drink, appreciating the cool condensation on the glass against his skin. “I see. Is that what Osamu and Suna are laughing at?”

Atsumu snorts and shakes his head. “I don’t know. I don’t really care.”

“You aren’t fighting with your brother again?” Kita frowns at the thought.

“No, we’re best friends, I swear. He comes to all of my games.” He rolls his eyes. “Okay, maybe we aren’t best friends. He’s still a total shithead, and I’m going to have a better life than him. Sorry, Kita. But… You know, he is my brother.” He looks down at the table, almost pensively.

Kita can’t help himself. He smiles a little, feeling his eyes go soft as he watches Atsumu’s face smooth. He never thought he would see that: Atsumu, speaking almost fondly of his twin. After a moment, Atsmu looks back up.

“Huh?” His mouth opens slightly. Kita can see a row of white teeth peeking out.

“I’m just…” Kita shrugs. He’s not often one to be lost for words, but he’s already talked more today than he has in weeks; he thinks, absurdly, that perhaps he has run out. “Happy. I’m glad you’re here. And Osamu and the others, too.”

“Yeah, right little family reunion we have going on.”

“Hm.”

“I’m glad you decided to come out tonight”, said Atsumu. “Thought you might not.”

Kita sighs. “Yes, I was debating it. But Aran wanted me as his best man, and I wanted to be here, so I figured I would make an exception. I’ll be leaving shortly, though. I have to be up early, and I am very tired.”

Atsumu glances at him from the corner of his eye. “Four a.m., wasn’t it?”

“Four a.m. sharp”, Kita confirms with a nod. “Every morning.”

“I have no idea how you do it.”

Kita hums. He’s aware they’re leaning in close together, talking almost under their breaths now, but he can’t bring himself to move away.

“Actually, scratch that. Sometimes, I think that, you know, when I think about you.” Atsumu stops and scratches his head. “But, then, I, er, I remind myself that it’s Kita. You know, you always had that routine and you like to stick to it and help things grow and. For a long time, I couldn’t understand why you quit volleyball, or why anyone would quit volleyball, but. Farming suits you.” He’s speaking haltingly, with several pauses, and his face is red. Kita can’t keep his smile from growing.

It dies again at Atsumu’s next words.

“It would just be good to see you more often.”

“Atsumu”, Kita whispers.

Atsumu half-turns towards him, distracted and seemingly lost in his own thoughts. “Hm?”

Kita leans in, pausing just a half-inch before his own lips connected with Atsumu’s. Atsumu doesn’t move. Kita can feel the almost stifling heat rolling from his body, can smell the mixture of cologne and sweat- but mainly cologne- going to his head.

“Kita”, Atsumu whispers, and this close Kita can see his eyes flickering back and forth, his pupils repeatedly shrinking and expanding. “What are you doing? Are you drunk?”

“I’m not drunk.”

He waits for a few seconds, afraid suddenly that he has read the situation wrong. Was he right? Did Atsumu get over it?

“I thought”, Atsumu says slowly, leaning backward, and Kita finds himself missing the proximity, “there are still two more years to go.”

At least that isn't a complete rejection. Kita finds he doesn’t like the uncertain tone of those words. And he has never been one to beat around the bush: He needs to know, now.

Taking one of Atsumu’s hands with both of his own, he asks; “Do you still love me?”

There is a pause, and then Atsumu’s other hand is firmly clamping down on top of Kita’s, thumb stroking over the back.

Kita stares at them for a moment, twining together, and takes a deep breath.

When he looks back up, Atsumu nods. His eyes are wide.

“Eight years and counting.”

Atsumu’s hands grip more tightly, and Kita realizes his own are shaking. He’s a little scared, of what he’s about to do. Things might not turn out well. They won’t be able to see each other much. But, he thinks, Atsumu has loved him all this time, through all their time apart, and despite the increased distance between them he has come to love Atsumu too, and if they had managed that over eight years, what was eight more, or ten, or twenty?

So, he whispers; “I think maybe that’s long enough,” and takes a moment to enjoy the way Atsumu’s eyes widen and then flicker closed before he leans in again.


End file.
